


Meanwhile

by Jenwryn



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Experimental, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, they were everything. Future!fic, negative AU in which Kira is defeated. |D;</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meanwhile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [passthebutter](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=passthebutter).



> Warning: Emo crap; experimental; non-explicit sex; parenthesis abuse.

(Once, they were everything.)

Dark. Not dark outside, perhaps, but dark in here. Time has come to a halt and there is nothing more. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This. No.

(This is how it was going to be: Mello would blaze like the Morning Star; and Matt would stand at his side, proud, amazing; and Kira would crumble, crumble; and L would rest easy in his grave; and Near would bend over and say _thank you thank you I know that you saved me_.)

Somebody, once, somewhere, some time, must have warned them how deadly dreams can be. Dreams. How they'll choke you, velvet ribbons at your throat, ties lacing holes in your veins, lungs bound with piano wire. It isn't as though they hadn't known, exactly, down to the last final detail, how very shit things could be.

Life is a whore, and she's paid in blood.

But.

They'd won, yet time has still ceased.

Lost in this room, and the mattress is stained. Jobs for food, jobs for breathing. Because life goes on, and it hurts more than the dreams do. People on the street watching Mello and his scar. Nobody watching Matt at all. And now they're adults, and adults, and adults, and what do you do with that, then.

(This is how it was going to be: wild love and laughter; victory; the gleam of computer screens and guns that nobody has to use; the passage of space and distance, road beneath the wheels of a car; and, all around, all everything: _freedom_.)

Dark, then. Mello's hair sways against his shoulders, colour negated by the night. Thighs clenching at hips, clutching, struggling, bleeding, just to keep connected.

(They're nothing but faces, now.)


End file.
